Curtain Call
by blackdog-lz
Summary: He should hate the ODS / The ODS was driving her crazy, but she couldn't live without them either
1. Curtain Call

**Notes**: Big thanks to faye_dartmouth for betaing both stories and for giving me inspiration to finish the second story.

I've written Curtain Call a good long while ago, but I just now was able to finish its sequel Hope Falls Down.

**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately the boys belong to the CBS, else I would have let them continue their adventures.

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><p><strong>Curtain Call<strong>

He should hate the ODS.

In fact, he did hate the ODS. No other team caused him that many headaches and he had stopped counting just how many international incidents he had barely kept at bay because of their unceasing antics.

But for all their unorthodox and unsanctioned missions and stunts they had pulled, the team was always successful and they always came back alive. Sometimes a little worse for wear, but always alive.

Higgins had tried to get rid of the ODS countless times, but nothing had ever touched them or had stopped them. Not with their skills.

But he had actually hoped that he would be able to control them, or at least know what they were up to half of the time, by using Martinez.

While that hadn't backfired, it hadn't worked either. Dorset – the most paranoid and scheming man Higgins had ever met outside politics – had looked through his plot like it had been made out of swiss cheese. And Collins had probably turned Martinez around again just using words. Higgins had seen it happen. Malick, on the other hand, had probably just threatened Martinez into compliance.

The three operatives were a force to be reckoned with. A little army on its own and instead of getting an inside man, Higgins had just given them a translator to help them cause even more mayhem in every language imaginable.

He had tried reprimanding them, had tried giving them the most boring or most filthy and downright worst assignments that came over his desk. But bringing down the ODS was worse than fighting windmills, was worse than trying to put out a forest fire with just a rusty bucket barely half full of water.

They always stood right up again, always came out on top. Higgins started to believe that nothing could bring the four operatives down. Not even the three months long, forced deportation after the mess with Simms had barely slowed them down them.

Instead the ODS had come out even stronger.

So when he heard about the explosion that brought down the warehouse the ODS had last called in from, he wasn't worried. After all, they had always survived.

There was no reason why he still sat in his office at two in the morning. He hated the ODS, but he trusted them to turn the mission around, to come back.

Higgins should be going home, should slip into his bed beside his wife and not stare at his phone in the office.

A phone that had yet to ring, even though hours had passed since the explosion and even though Dorset always called.

Higgins willed it to ring, because while he hated the ODS, he hated to lose them more.

The End


	2. Hope Falls Down

**Hope Falls Down**

The clenching of her stomach in worry was not unknown feeling. It was something Fay felt whenever she sent Michael out on a mission.

Even though they had been divorced for more than four years now, she still had feelings for him. So she still was worried about him and by default, his team. No matter how hard she tried to tell herself that she shouldn't like them, she just couldn't stop herself. It was the intangible charm of the ODS.

It was easy to like Billy with his easy smile and his charisma. He had pulled her aside just a few days after the divorce was final and had told her that if she ever needed someone to talk to, he would be there. Given his closeness to Michael, it had been a generous offer, one that she had used more than once, and over the time, a friendship of some sort had developed.

Warming up to Casey had taken a bit longer. The man wore a perpetual scowl to keep the rest of the world at bay, to maintain 100% effectiveness by not getting close to anyone. But when she had been sitting next to him in a hospital waiting room some three years ago, nervously expecting news about Michael or Billy after both of them had been in a car accident on the way to work, Casey had been her anchor. He had been the one to tell her over and over again that both men would be fine, even when Fay had seen the fear and worry in his eyes. After that she saw the human side in the human weapon.

Rick, on the other hand, was also easy to like. His youthful naiveté was refreshing, as was his immediate loyalty. Those were the character traits that initially had attracted her, until their first and only date and its sudden but inevitable end. But she did felt sorry for him after she heard what the rest of the ODS had done to him, even though she hadn't quite managed to suppress a smile at the antics.

Still, they really could be annoying and their antics had robbed her of her sleep more than once. And yet, even for as much as they grated at her nerves, they could be endearing, too.

So when the news of the explosion came in, Fay's world stopped for a moment. Then it all came crashing down and she felt her stomach tighten in worry. Michael and his team had last called in an hour ago, telling her that they were following a lead into that warehouse. A warehouse that, right now, was just ashes and smoke.

The satellite pictures came in a few hours after the news of the explosion. There was hardly anything left standing of the warehouse and Fay felt her hopes sink that anyone could have come out alive. She had always believed that the ODS was invincible, that nothing could bring them down. Hubris in a way, Fay supposed, but for all the dangerous missions the team had been on, they had always come back.

Night had fallen long ago not, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from the monitor, couldn't go home. She stared at the grainy pictures of the warehouse like they were a lifeline, hoping to identify any member of the ODS in the pixels.

There was a dim light shining through the slat blinds of Higgins' office and she knew that her boss hadn't left either. No matter how often he was irritated by the ODS or tried to get rid of them, he was still the Director and those were his men. So he worried for them in equal measure.

The sudden ringing of her phone made her jump in surprise. She had hoped that it would ring eventually, but still somewhere in the back of her mind, she had given up and the noise had startled her from her reverie.

Fay fumbled with the handset, the plastic slipping from her trembling fingers once and she feared that she had unintentionally hung up. But when she pressed the handset against her ear, she heard someone breathing heavily over the line.

"Michael?" It was her first and only thought. Dimly she realized that the door to Higgins' office opened and the man himself stepped out, came over to her desk and pressed the speaker button to listen in.

The heavy breathing continued for a few seconds and Fay felt her heart slam against her ribcage in a fast staccato beat.

"Yeah, it's me." Michael's voice sounded rough and strained over the phone, but he was alive and Fay closed her eyes for a second in sheer relief.

"Are you okay?"

There was a short silence over the line and it crackled ominously, before Michael replied. "Could be better, but I'll live."

"What about Malick, Collins and Martinez?" Higgins asked. He was still standing beside Fay, one hand pressed against the edge of her desk, as he stared at the phone.

"I don't know," Michael said, and he sounded scared and lost, and those were to traits Fay had never connected with Michael before. For her, Michael had always been the leader, had always been in control – almost too much sometimes. His inability to let go of control had been a large factor in their breakup. The desperation in Michael's voice went straight into her heart and she knew that if the rest of the ODS didn't make it back, neither would Michael. And that was a loss she wasn't ready to face.

"You'll find them," Fay told him, hating that she couldn't comfort him, even though he never had let her comfort him before.

Michael didn't reply, but Fay heard footsteps and rubble shifting over the line. A sigh of relief escaped her; at least he had left the line open while he searched. And while she listened to Michael shift through dirt, her own hands were busy. Locating her cell phone and then calling in an extraction team. The boys needed to get out of there, alive or not.

While she was organizing the rescue, Fay listened in on Higgins talking to Michael, assessing the situation and finding out just how badly he really was injured.

She was listened with just one ear, but it was enough to get gist of it. It had been a trap. The ODS had been lured into the warehouse and when they went inside, they found the bomb. None of the men were trained in disarming a live bomb, so they had done the only thing they could. They had run.

Still, they hadn't been fast enough and the last thing Michael had been able to remember was near unbearable heat. Fay wished she didn't have to hear that. She didn't need to hear how her ex-husband had nearly died again.

"An extraction team is on its way. It should be there in about an hour," Fay said after she hung up on her cell and turned her attention back to the more important conversation.

There was no acknowledgment from Michael and she hadn't really expected one either. The team leader was searching for his missing friends; he had more important things on his mind.

It was hard to listen to everything over the phone; Fay wanted so very much to help. She knew that she wasn't a field agent, that she was better at researching and gathering information. But times like these, when she had to listen to a desperate search for friends, she wished that she could do more. Because all the information she had dug up for the mission was useless now and she couldn't find the rest of the team in the conduits of her computer.

The shuffling and Michael's controlled breathing sounded tinny from the speaker and kept her nerves strung tight. She was fiddling with a pen in her right hand, unable to keep still as she leaned as close to the phone as possible, hoping to not miss any noise.

A curse from Michael made her drop the pen and she leaned even closer to the phone. "What happened?" And as much as she hoped that her voice sounded steady and controlled, she knew that it didn't.

"Just found Billy," Michael's reply was succinct and his voice was more strained than before.

Fay bit her lip in anticipation. She could already guess that the news would be bad, knew this by the sound of Michael's voice alone. It was a tone she luckily heard seldom, but when she did, the ODS usually was in trouble.

She hated that tone.

"You said an hour until reinforcements arrive, right?" Michael asked.

Fay started to nod in reply, and she had to remind herself that Michael couldn't see her. "Just about, maybe a bit less. Why?" She didn't want to hear his answer, scared of knowing just how bad Billy was injured, but she also knew that she had to know.

"Tell them to get here faster," Michael said and then there was a thud as he let the phone fall to the ground – at least that was what Fay presumed had happened. She twitched in her chair and her hand reached out to her cell phone again, checking in with the rescue team and their progress, but they were still more than forty minutes out. And Fay was scared that that was too long.

The next time Michael spoke, his voice sounded even tinnier and more distant, but he was trying to wake Billy and not talking to them. There was no Scottish accented reply and Fay started to worry in earnest.

"Dorset," Higgins said. He had listened more or less patiently to Michael's short exchange and had pulled a chair over to sit down in. "What is Operative Collins' condition?"

Fay wasn't sure if Michael had even heard him, the cell phone was, most likely, lying in the dirt somewhere and Michael's attention wasn't on it. But she also knew that Michael was a good leader and always had all of his senses tuned to his surroundings.

It was one of the things that Fay had thought of as a little quirk at the beginning of their relationship. She'd smiled at Michael whenever he had chosen a table in the back of the restaurant and with his back against a wall so that he was able to observe everything. Later she was annoyed by his constant vigilance and need to see and hear everything.

Now she was grateful for it.

"Bad." Even with the poor connection Fay could hear the fear in Michael's voice. "He's impaled on a rebar."

It was just a quick second, but, in her mind, Fay saw Billy lying on the ground, a rusted piece of metal protruding from his chest. Her heart stuttered in worry and she knew that it must be far worse for Michael.

Again she wished that, more than anything, she could somehow help Michael.

The hissing over the line became worse, static noise crackling from the speaker, but not Michael's voice or any sound of his movements.

"How bad is it," Higgins said from beside her. And while his voice still sounded calm and in control, she could see that his face was paler than before and that more lines had appeared on his face as he frowned in worry.

Fay knew that Higgins would never admit it, but he trusted the ODS to accomplish the most dangerous missions the CIA had to offer. The team was good, was successful and in a way that Higgins would never show, he was proud of them and probably even respected them for some of their more daring actions.

Although their sometimes rather ridiculous demands had her close to the edge of insanity. It wasn't easy to always get what they wanted, but over the years she had gotten better at hiding some of the more outrageous requests from Higgins.

Another ominous crackling brought her attention back to the telephone and the line that seemed to hold her heart and stomach in a tight grip.

Michael's voice sounded even farther away, more garbled and with a sudden understanding Fay realized that the connection was breaking up.

Only half the words Michael was saying were actually audible, but Fay got the gist of it.

The rebar went through Billy's body somewhere between the sixth and the seventh rib. By the sound of his breathing, his lung was injured but the metal rod actually prevented Billy from bleeding out right now.

And Michael still hadn't seen nor heard from Casey or Rick.

Fay wasn't sure if the ODS could survive another loss. The team had been broken after Simms had apparently died and it had taken them a long time to get back to their old strength and shenanigans. She couldn't bear to see them suffer through that again.

The rescue team was still half an hour out and Fay just prayed that they would still find the ODS in time.

The whooshing sound increased in volume and the last words Fay heard was Michael begging Billy to just keep on breathing, when, with a sudden crackling, the line went completely dead.

Higgins hit the desk hard with his flat hand, while Fay just stared at the beeping phone in silent desperation.

Their life line had been cut and now all she could was hope and pray that the team would survive against all odds.

The rescue team didn't has any video equipment. The only way to find out what was happening was to listen in via radio, if it was possible that made Fay feel even more nervous.

They hadn't heard anything from Michael or the other two since the call disconnected even though Fay had dialed not only Michael's number over and over again, but also Casey's, Rick's and even Billy's. But none of the cell phones seemed to work.

The quality of the radio communication Higgins and Fay could follow was not much better than the phone call with Michael, but at least they again knew what was happening.

Fay dried her sweaty palms on the hem of her skirt. She was more nervous than she wanted to admit, was more concerned for Michael than she thought she would be, especially after the not so easy divorce. But the truth was that, in her own way, she still loved Michael, would always love him. And not knowing whether he was going to be okay, whether he was coming back alive or not was still the reason for most of her sleepless nights. Today was no different.

The rescue team found Casey first. Alive but unconscious and Fay started to pick at the skin around her fingernails.

Rick was discovered next. The youngest operative was awake and in pain, collapsed rubble had pinned him to the ground and had prevent him from searching for his missing friends. But even though he had been half buried for hours, his injuries seemed to be minor.

Knowing that at least half the team was safe calmed her fast beating heart down some, but there was still an edge to her breathing, still an uneasy feeling that held her stomach in a tight grip. Because Billy and Michael were still out there, could still be dead.

It was a possibility she chose to ignore for the moment. Because it was an option that just couldn't be possible.

When the rescue team finally found them, Fay had to hide her face behind her hands, elbows braced on the table.

The ODS was still alive.

They were still kicking and fighting and Fay felt tears of relief and fear in her eyes. But she forced them back. She couldn't cry in front of her boss.

Higgins' warm hand landed on her shoulder and squeezed softly. It was a gesture she hadn't expected of him, but it helped her focus again.

"Go home, Miss Carson. You have earned it," Higgins said and she heard his footsteps clacking against the cheap linoleum as he left her office.

But Fay couldn't go, not yet.

While she knew that the team was safe and on their way to the hospital that didn't mean that her work was over.

She still needed to know their exact condition. The rescue team had been sparse with information on the physical state of either of the ODS members. And that just wouldn't do.

So she called the closest hospital, informed them about the arrival of the team and what to do with them. Because she knew that they would want to be close together. They drew strength from each other and she knew from experience that none of them would rest unless they knew where their friends were and how they were doing.

It was something she had always admired about the team: their team spirit and the fact that they always stick together. Sometimes, when she was still married with Michael, it had been annoying. While many of their dates had started with just the two of them, few had ended that way. Somehow the team had always found each other. But now she appreciated the closeness, because none of the men would ever leave a team member behind.

The nurse on the other end of the line spoke good English. While the team had worked in a rather isolated area, they still had been in Germany, which meant civilization and good medical treatment close by. And people actually understanding her without the need of a translator.

It was another fact Fay was grateful for. Because she was sure that if the team had worked in some more remote location in a third world country, the rescue would have been much more difficult and most likely too late.

Fay had given the nurse a list of requirements on how to best handle the ODS. The woman on the other line had laughed at first, but she still had promised to call once there was any news.

The news came three hours later.

Fay had dozed off with her head cushioned on her arms, and the ringing of the phone startled her from her light sleep.

Her neck was hurting and her left hand had fallen asleep under the weight of her head, but still she wasted no second in picking up the phone.

The nurse on the line was a different one, but she had the same professional tone; that fact didn't calm Fay down, but rather made her more nervous.

Because Casey was lying in ICU with a skull fracture.

The human weapon had always prided himself on being able to withstand almost everything and Fay was worried that he finally had found something that could bring him down. The nurse was impersonal as she told Fay that Casey was in a coma and the doctors didn't know when or if he would wake up. Her stomach, which had finally relaxed after hours of nervous anticipation, was a ball of worry again.

And Billy was lying in the cubicle beside him, on a ventilator and fighting sepsis. The metal rod had been rusty and it had been even more difficult to remove the rebar than the doctors had anticipated. The rebar had shifted during the transport and had caused major internal bleeding. By the time Billy had arrived in the ER, his heart had stopped. Fay's heart did the same when she heard that. It struggled back into its normal rhythm only when the nurse told her that they had managed to resuscitate Billy in the ER.

There was no real prognosis if either man would recover. But Fay knew them. Both were stubborn in their own way and she knew that an explosion wouldn't bring them down.

Still, Fay felt guilty, because for one second she had actually been relieved that it wasn't Michael lying in the ICU and fighting for his life. It was a depressing thought, but, while she did like the other members of the ODS, her feelings for Michael ran far deeper. She would rather see him survive than Casey, or Billy, or Rick.

The injuries Michael had suffered were minor, a dislocated shoulder and a slight concussion. He was scratched and bruised all over, but he was standing on his own two feet and not confined to a hospital bed. Unlike Rick.

The younger operative had a badly broken leg, which had to be set and which would take months to heal properly. But he was awake and breathing on his own and the doctors knew that both he and Michael were going to make a complete recovery.

After talking to the nurse, Michael had been allowed to use the phone.

Just hearing his voice again reassured Fay and she felt like she could finally breathe again.

"They're cautiously optimistic, whatever that means," Michael said and he sounded exhausted. Fay wanted to reach through the phone, wanted to hug him. Michael had never been one to need physical comfort, but at times like these, she knew that he appreciated it.

She also knew that Michael didn't like meaningless platitudes, so she didn't tell him that Casey and Billy were fighters, that they were too stubborn to die. Instead she told him about Higgins and about the plane she's already secured for the team to take them back to Washington.

It was an indirect way of telling Michael that Fay believed everything would be okay. Indirect, she knew, always worked better with Michael rather than telling things to his face. That piece of knowledge was definitely one of the benefits gleaned from their marriage and with that, she managed to calm him down a bit and he promised to get some rest.

Although Fay wasn't quite sure if he was really going to keep that promise.

Over the next few days, Fay probably didn't get much more sleep than Michael. She felt rumpled and tired, but whenever she tried to sleep, nightmares haunted her worse than ever.

And in the back of her mind was still the worry for Billy and Casey and how their conditions were affecting Michael and Rick.

She called daily, sometimes even twice and she kept in contact with the nurses, calming them down and talking them into letting Michael stay in ICU and letting Rick visit.

It wasn't much, but at least she was able to do something.

The road to recovery was a long one. For Fay, it felt even longer simply because the only updates she got came over the phone. She managed to get more sleep in between work and the calls, and her days started to get back into their normal rhythm.

Billy woke up first. Confused and disoriented by the fever still running high in his body, but clearly on the mend. While they removed the ventilator the same day, the fever only sank slowly. Not that it really stopped Billy. From what Michael told her over the phone, the Scot was talking whenever he was awake.

Not even a day later, Casey woke up. Scowling and annoyed.

Michael believed Casey woke up just so he could tell Billy to shut up. And that was a scenario Fay was more than willing to believe. She'd grinned at the news, not just because Casey was awake, but also because Michael sounded lighter and more relaxed. It felt has if his good mood was transferred over the phone line and into Fay.

Still, she itched to just take a flight out to Germany and check on the boys herself. So when the hospital finally gave the okay that they could come home, Fay was standing at the airport waiting to greet them.

Adele was standing beside her, equally nervous, if slightly more composed. The other woman had been attending a budget meeting in New York when the mission had been executed and while she had been in contact with Rick in the following days and weeks, she needed to see him in person just to be sure that everything was really alright.

The plane had landed a few minutes ago and the two women waited just outside the hangar of the Army airstrip for the four men.

They were all rumpled, clothes wrinkled and stubble growing thickly. Billy and Casey were both pale, their steps slower and more calculated as they came closer. Rick was limping beside them, leg in an aircast and crutch in one hand. Michael was the only one who was walking without a limp. But with his arm still in a sling and a yellow-green bruise covering his temple, he didn't look much better than the rest of his team.

With relief clearly visible on her face, Adele took a step forward and hugged Rick. It was more affection than the couple usually showed in the public, but Fay could understand her. She would have loved to hug Michael too, but for now, glancing in his direction and getting a nod in return would have to do.

While Adele was going to take Rick back to her place, Fay had offered to drive the rest of the team to their respective homes. Which seemed to be a moot point, since Michael wouldn't let Casey and Billy stay on their own until they were better.

Fay had to smile at their discussion about where anyone would stay. Over the past few years, she had been privy to more than one of these arguments that, ultimately, would always end the same – with Michael winning.

Listening to the men bickering, Fay felt something click in her and she was finally able to breathe freely again for the first time since hearing about the explosion. The ODS still had a long way to go until they would be back in action, but they were back home and safe for the moment.

Michael was the first who came back to work.

He had spent another two weeks at home, recuperating and forcing Billy to physical therapy before he was officially allowed to work again.

To Fay, he looked lost, sitting in the office with three empty desks surrounding him. The usual acoustic level that surrounded the room was absent and more often than not, Michael found his way to Fay's desk with two cups of coffee in his hand.

Even though he had forgotten the name of the perfume she had worn in Paris, Michael still knew how she liked her coffee. It seems like an innocent token, maybe, but Fay knows better. It's a habit of his to bring it – hot and just the way she likes it – to levy her favor. In the past, she might have rebuffed him, but for now, she's inclined to take the bribe. She tells herself that it's just until the team is back on their feet, even if she's not sure that's true.

Casey was the next to return to desk duty. And while that didn't make the office seem any louder – that was Billy's job after all – Michael at least stopped looking so forlorn.

Billy and Rick came back on the same day. Both still looked a bit haggard from their experience, but ready to be back at work and ready to cause mayhem.

Thing definitely picked up once the ODS was complete again. Pranks were being played and somehow the whole building felt more alive to Fay.

Michael's visits became more seldom until he only bugged her when he wanted information on new possible missions.

So when he sauntered into her office on a Monday morning two month after they all had returned back to duty, Fay knew exactly what he wanted. Especially when he set a cup of hot coffee with a splash of milk and caramel syrup on her desk.

"What can I do for you now, Michael?" Fay asked cautiously, because she knew exactly why Michael had come to her.

He sat down on the edge of the desk, eyes skimming over the papers spread out on the surface and took a sip of his own coffee.

With a little shake of her head, Fay shuffled the papers into a messy pile and placed them out of Michael's line of sight. There were some discreet data on them and Michael didn't need to see them. Who knew what he'd do with the information, but it could be potentially hazardous.

"You know what I want," Michael replied and inclined his head toward the stack of papers. "Somewhere in there must be a mission for my team. We're all getting antsy and Casey really needs to hit something."

Fay took a sip of her own coffee as she pondered his request. While Casey might be ready to hit something, Michael was clearly ready to manipulate someone. It was, after all, one of the things he was really good at and he had tried it more than once on her.

But, more often than not, Michael seemed to forget that they had lived together for years and that she could look right through him. Small changes in his body language and a slight glint in his eye were always giving him away. At least to her. Although she was pretty sure that Casey and Billy had picked up on that a long time ago too.

It was that glint she had missed in the last stages of her marriage and one she thought she would never see again when she had stared at the burning remains of the warehouse.

And with a small sigh, she let herself get manipulated.

"I'll see what I can do," she said. There were still limits on how far she'd let herself get manipulated by her ex-husband. And with one glance at Michael and then the door, she ended the short conversation.

She watched Michael leave her office, a smirk badly hidden behind his cup of coffee, and then pulled out a certain file from the stack.

The mission would be dangerous, but it would be one the ODS would excel at. They could hurt, manipulate, charm and translate and most likely cause massive destruction in the process. But that was their job and the ODS was just too good to not accept that mission.

With another sigh, Fay opened the manila folder and began to collect more intel on the team's next mission.

The End


	3. Hope Rises

**Hope Rises**

**A/N: **This took a while in coming, but suddenly inspiration has struck and the story just kind of wrote itself. But much thanks to my beta Faye_Dartmouth, who gave me some great suggestion to improve the story.

**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately the boys belong to the CBS, else I would have let them continue their adventures.

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><p>His ears were ringing. A shrill, wailing sound that droned out everything around him. Michael could feel dust in his lungs, his mouth and his nose. There was grit in his eyes, sticking his lashes together, and slowly aches and pains were awakening in his body.<p>

He didn't know what had happened to land him here, on his back with his eyes closed and his ears buzzing. There was a small voice in the back of his aching head that was telling him to slip back into the dark, to ignore everything around him. But a ray of light fell across his closed lids, lighting up the darkness and Michael forced them open.

Dust particles were dancing in the sunlight, gray granite and metal poles bright in the rays, and Michael squeezed his eyes shut again. The dull throbbing in his head had spiked with the light, turning into a sudden, stabbing ache. Michael groaned and forced his eyes open again. There was no need to delay anything and he was never known to procrastinate anyway.

Moving hurt. His muscles seemed as if they had been stretched to the limit because he could feel the strain of it now, bruises most likely covered his body, and while the spiking pain in his head was receding somewhat, it still felt as if his brain was trying to escape through his ears. His left shoulder was burning with pain, but the arm was numb, fingers tingling and feeling as if they didn't belong to him. His mind immediately recognized the signs of a dislocation and Michael cursed. In TV-shows or bad action movies, the hero would easily pop the joint back in on his own. But unfortunately this was reality and Michael was not an overambitious cop or a near immortal action man. So he did what he could and fashioned a sling from his tie.

Now on his feet, Michael took in the destruction around him, hoping that it would help him remember. It looked as if no stone had remained standing. What once had been a warehouse was now just rubble. Light flooded in through the partially collapsed roof, illuminating the fallen pieces of mortar. Red bricks were spread over the floor, mixed with broken in plywood. And now that the ringing in his ears was slowly dying down, Michael realized that it was eerily silent, except for the odd sound of shifting debris and groaning metal.

Staring at a single, still standing metal pole in the middle of the warehouse, a memory flashed across Michael's mind. He saw his team spaced across the empty room, Rick farthest away from him, his frame partially obscured by the metal pole, then Casey and, closest to Michael, Billy. All ready to run, because of the bomb they had found – half hidden in a wooden box, but ticking loud enough for the team to find it. None of them had wanted to even try to disarm it, the warehouse and their lives hadn't been worth it. So they had started to run. Michael's last memory was the feeling of heat from the explosion and he had known with a deep-rooted fear that they had been too slow.

The ODS had been betrayed; they had walked stupidly into a trap and now his team had paid the price for Michael's inattentiveness. His hand was trembling out of fear, rage and helplessness. Because wherever he looked, there was just rubble and debris and destruction, but the rest of his team was nowhere to be seen.

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><p>He had never expected Higgins to be in the office with Fay. But it was somehow reassuring to Michael, knowing that his boss did indeed care about them despite their differences. And Fay's voice alone calmed him down, helped him focus. She had always been his anchor, through good and bad times; she had been there for him even during their divorce. And still now, whenever something was wrong with his team, whenever one or two or, like now, all of them were injured, he found solace in her voice. Since his team was missing, injured or probably even worse, dead, Michael needed to hear her voice. So she was the first person he called. The only person he could call in a situation like this.<p>

Knowing that she was on the other end of the line was enough for now and Michael began to search through the rubble, hoping to find any traces of his teammates. He didn't need to talk to Fay while he searched; besides, Fay would be hard at work on her side, trying to track down the nearest team and then sending them in for an extraction.

The whole area looked desolate. Dust particles danced through rays of light and Michael felt them scratch in his throat and lungs. The ground underneath his feet shifted as he carefully treaded across, little stones and slightly larger debris shifting and rolling to the side as he made his way through. Looking at the damage, Michael felt lucky that he survived the blast with just minor injuries and he hoped that his teammates were similarly uninjured. But a small voice in the back of his mind told him that if they really were okay, he would have found them already.

Michael shook his head, ignoring the ringing and the pain that flared up with the movements. He couldn't be pessimistic about the situation, he needed to keep up hope. Even though he knew that the longer he searched, the chances of find his friends alive were dwindling. But it was something he couldn't accept – not now, not until he had the final proof. So he continued to shift rubble with his feet, while he held the cell phone with his uninjured arm to his ear and listed to his lifeline to reality.

"An extraction team is on its way. It should be there in about an hour," Fay's voice crackled through the line, but Michael didn't reply. It wasn't meant to be rude and Fay probably knew that he needed the silence to center himself, to concentrate on finding his teammates.

Higgins, though, didn't know that and his voice broke again through Michael's concentration, insistent and demanding. "What about Malick, Collins and Martinez?"

Michael had known that the question was coming, but he had also dreaded it. He liked to answer Higgins' with concise, short and most importantly correct replies. But now all he could do was tell him that he had no idea. And that sent a new spike of fear through him. Because as a team leader he was responsible for his men and not knowing where they were and what their conditions were, was unacceptable. And he wouldn't give up his search for them until he found them.

He didn't know what made him spot Billy – probably another shaft of light coming in from the mostly ruined roof – but what he saw made his stomach churn anew with nausea. He'd seen plenty of injuries during his life and blood had never made him squeamish – he had wanted to become a doctor after all – but the sight of a rebar sticking out of Billy's chest, blood and rust coating the metal, was enough to make him swallow down bile.

Michael stood frozen for a few seconds, cell phone still in his right hand and held to his ear as he tried to breathe through the nausea churning his stomach. He must have cursed, because Fay's voice came tinny and scared over the phone as she asked about what had happened.

" Just found Billy," Michael told Fay and Higgins, keeping it short and to the point, hoping to not show them just how scared he was.

He slowly stepped closer, carefully not disturbing any of the rubble underneath his shoes. Up close it looked even worse. Billy was pale and blood had soaked into his shirt around the rebar. His breathing was labored; a wet, rattling noise escaped his lips and his chest was struggling to rise.

"You said an hour until reinforcements arrive, right?" Michael asked. He knew what Fay had told him just minutes ago, but he still needed confirmation again, simply to make the situation more real. While his eyes took in the situation, his heart couldn't accept it just yet. And the more details he had about their coming rescue, the better he knew just what he needed to fix this situation.

"Just about, maybe a bit less. Why?" Fay asked and Michael could see her in his mind, sitting at her desk, slightly bent toward the phone, maybe even playing with one of her curls and her face creased in worry. He took a deep breath, taking that image to draw strength and then forced himself to concentrate on the situation at hand.

And the situation was painfully clear. The extraction team, according to Fay's approximation, would take an hour to arrive. That was an hour that Billy might not have. Michael felt his heart sink. Billy might not even survive the next ten minutes, let alone an hour.

"Tell them to get here faster," Michael replied and let the phone fall down amongst the debris. Right now, he didn't care what would happen to it and he needed his working right hand. Besides, when they all made it back – and they had to make it back, Michael couldn't let himself believe otherwise – he would get a replacement anyway.

His hesitation was unfounded, though, because the phone still seemed to work. Higgins' voice cut through the groaning of the wood and the shifting of the debris. "How bad is it?"

Michael took another deep breath. It was a valid, important question. One that he needed an answer to, but one that he also feared the answer of. But standing still, just watching, he wasn't going to find that out anytime soon.

Yet, the scene before him was daunting. Frightening even. Michael had seen a lot in his time with the CIA, but he hadn't seen _this_.

"Bad. He's impaled on rebar," Michael finally replied, trying to not give away too much, but also knowing that Higgins was not going to leave it at that. He was their boss and therefore needed to have as much information as he could. As a general rule, the ODS only gave him bits and pieces; enough to keep him just outside the loop. It was a tight rope they generally walked and usually they didn't manage to trip, but somehow Michael knew that this time the more information he gave Higgins, the better it would be. The man wanted to disband the ODS, but he never wished actual harm on them. He valued them more than that, even if he'd never admit it.

So Michael scrambled closer to Billy, ignoring his own screaming muscles and the fire that burned in his shoulder. But it somehow faded into the background – the pain always did when he had other, more important things on his mind, like Billy.

His fingers left dirty smudges on Billy's neck, and what they found tied a tight knot in Michael's stomach. Because Billy's pulse was fast and thready. A clear sign of shock and really, Michael should have expected this, but there was a difference between knowing and feeling it. He felt his heart speed up in response. He had the same feelings whenever one of his men was injured in the field. It was not something he could ever get used to, although he knew it happened far too often. And every time he felt guilty. This time however he felt even more helpless than usual.

Higgins' voice was getting harder to understand as he repeated his question. It was getting more tinnier and decreasing in volume as the connection slowly broke up. In the back of Michael's mind, he knew that was probably problematic. Under normal circumstances, maintaining contact with Langley was imperative but this time, he couldn't quite focus on it. Generally Michael always kept his senses attuned to his surroundings – he had to. As a spy it could get you killed if you weren't aware of what was going on around you. But Billy needed his complete attention right now.

Not that Michael knew what he should do; for all his experience in manipulating people, he had no idea how to mend people. Sure, he did the mandatory first aid courses and still had a basic knowledge of medicine that made him understand the medical talk at hospitals. But this was a situation he had never been confronted with before. Michael was helpless; alone, he couldn't do anything at all. Because the rebar protruded from the right side of Billy's chest, somewhere between the sixth and the seventh rib. And with that it went straight through the lung. The good news was that the rebar also worked as a plug, keeping Billy from bleeding out. Really, in this way, the rebar was the only thing keeping Billy alive. But it was already affecting his breathing and Michael knew that it would only get worse the more time passed.

It went against all of Michael's instincts to not do anything, but he knew that he couldn't remove the rebar, not on his own without the proper equipment and certainly not without real professional help that would be able to stop the bleeding. But no matter how much he hated sitting at the sidelines and doing nothing, he had no other choice.

He spoke his findings out loud, but by now Michael thought that it probably was a moot point anyway. The connection had been breaking up and the phone was lying a good few feet away from his position. And his voice was raspy from the dust flying around, so he had no idea just how much information was getting across. At this point, he didn't care. He didn't care about anything except the ragged rise and fall of Billy chest, one strained breath after another.

Help was coming: Michael knew this, he couldn't shake the fear that the rescue wasn't going to come fast enough. And there still was no sign of either Casey or Rick. They had to be either badly injured or worse, dead, because otherwise they would have found him.

It scared him, more than he ever wanted to, or could admit. Because he could lose his whole team in one botched mission.

* * *

><p>The wait for the rescue team seemed endless. The phone had stopped working completely at some point. Not that Michael had actually gotten up to check it. But when he hadn't heard anything from Fay or Higgins for several minutes, he could guess that the tenuous connection had finally cut out entirely.<p>

It made him feel slightly more vulnerable, knowing that the only connection he had to safety had been cut. Even though the situation was technically under control and chances were small that their former targets were going to come back to check if the bomb had really killed them all, it had reassured him to know that there was somebody on the other end of the line, who knew what was going on, what their current situation was. Now he had no one to talk to, just an unconscious Billy. That was hardly reassuring.

The pain in his shoulder had decreased, but his fingers and his hand had gone completely numb. With every dislocation there was a chance of nerve damage; Michael hoped that his senseless arm was just a symptom of the steadily hardening muscles in his joint. He wouldn't know for sure until the shoulder was back in its place; all he could do right now was hope.

The whole situation unbalanced him; he worked best with his team beside him. Drew strength and confidence from them. And now, not knowing where they were, or if they were going to survive was nearly tearing him apart. He would trade places with any of them in a heartbeat if that meant that they would make it out alive. Hell, he even would offer himself to their former targets if that would save his friends.

But he knew that that wasn't going to happen, it was just a wish, one that would never come true. And Michael had never felt so out of control. It wasn't just his own life that was on the line here, he had put his teammates lives in danger too. It was all part of the job, Michael knew this, he also knew that Rick, Billy or Casey would do the exact same thing, would offer their lives for the safety of their country and team. But right now, watching Billy slowly dying in front of him, that didn't reassured him at all, that just made him more angry.

His own injuries just intensified these feelings, as his head was still ringing and his vision swam from time to time. It was their job to risk life and limb so that the rest of the world could sleep safe and secure, but sometimes it felt unreal and unfair to Michael that it always was his team that had to pay the price for security. Sometimes Michael just wanted it all to stop, wanted to have a safe life of his own.

It didn't matter that he knew that he was not meant to live in a nice little house in the suburbs with a white picket fence, that he sought the danger and the adrenaline like his teammates. But not knowing where Rick and Casey were and looking at Billy, at the lips that slowly turned blue or at the chest that struggled to rise, Michael yearned for a little piece and quiet.

Michael had placed his uninjured hand on Billy's shoulder; partly to show the Scot that he wasn't alone, partly to reassure Michael that Billy was still breathing. He murmured words from time to time, words with no real meanings, just simply another distraction. The silence that had settled over the place felt far unnatural to Michael.

So his ears immediately picked up a change in the silence. The noise was low at first, hardly audible, but slowly and definitely became louder and then identifiable as approaching footsteps. Michael sighed in relief at the sounds and some of the pent-up anxiety released in his shoulders.

He leaned in closer to Billy again, gave the shoulder underneath his hand a quick squeeze, before he softly said, "Help's finally here, Billy. Just keep on breathing and everything will be alright."

He forced himself to his feet, ignored the darkening of his vision and raised his one, good arm in the air and yelled for help.

* * *

><p>Rick and Casey were still alive. That had been a huge relief for Michael, even though he knew that this was still far from over.<p>

The extraction team had come well prepared and four ambulances had been parked outside the destroyed warehouse, along with several police cruisers and an uncountable number of police officers and firefighters who were securing the scene.

Michael refused to be transported on a stretcher, instead he walked right beside Billy's. It had been horrible to watch at the side lines, as the medics had done everything possible to stabilize Billy and then cut through the rebar pinning him to the floor. Those were pictures that were going to haunt Michael for the rest of his life, Dorset knew this.

But simply the sight of his two other operatives eased his frayed nerves. Rick was conscious and just as relieved as Michael to see the rest of his friends, no matter how injured. At least they were all still alive, even though Casey was deeply unconscious and blood was already staining the pristine bandage that had been tied around his head.

Despite Michael's protests, the medics had placed the four of them in different ambulances, claiming the need for space. Michael felt his anxiety rise again at the thought and the feeling of being separated again.

He just got his team back, broken and hurt, but at least they had been together. Being divided again didn't sit right with Michael; it wasn't just the not knowing about how they were doing, it was a feeling he couldn't quite describe, even to himself. But he thought it simply was because he was unbalanced without his friends around him.

And his bad feeling proved to be justified because Billy crashed in the ambulance and he was dead when he was rolled into the ER. Casey was still deeply unconscious and hadn't reacted to any stimuli. The only one awake and aware was Rick. And while Michael knew that he should be happy about at least this, he couldn't stop worrying, couldn't stop feeling helpless. Most of this news came from the nurses, but he had caught a short glimpse of Billy, unresponsive and surrounded by medics, when they had arrived at the ER at the same time.

At the hospital, the nurses already knew how to deal with them and Michael had to hide a smile, because that surely was Fay's doing. And Michael was grateful for her adamancy and for not stopping even though they had been found and technically the mission should have been over for her.

So after his shoulder had been X-rayed, relocated and placed in a sling and the doctors had lectured him about the dangers of a concussion, a nurse had brought him to Rick's room. There was no news about either Billy or Casey just yet and that was setting Michael on the edge, and he had a hard time controlling himself.

The younger operative's leg had been badly broken and was now suspended above the mattress. But the drugs running through Rick's system were enough to keep him out until the next morning and Michael was tremendously glad about it. That way Rick didn't see his team leader breaking apart, didn't see the hopelessness and the helplessness that rested on his shoulders and in his heart. There was nothing Michael could do but sit and hope.

He would pray, but Michael had stopped believing in a benevolent God years ago. The last time he had been in a church had been at his wedding. Still, Michael had unconsciously found his way the hospital's small chapel after the doctors had told him the news about Casey.

A skull fracture and a coma, no when's just if's. And Billy was still in surgery with no guarantee that he would make it.

Michael had already lost Simms due to an explosion in a warehouse and now it looked as if he was going to lose Billy and Casey too.

Staring at the wooden cross on the altar, Michael prayed for the first time in years.

* * *

><p>Billy's and Casey's complexions were completely different. Casey was deadly pale, grey tingeing the skin under his eyes and, while Billy was also pale, his cheeks were red with the fever that burned through him. And Michael didn't know what looked worse.<p>

He sat in between the two beds, the silent beeping of the two heartbeats oddly synchronized, but interrupted by the steady swooshing sound of the ventilator breathing for Billy.

Two days ago the warehouse had exploded and since then nothing had changed. Casey was still in a coma, Billy was fighting with sepsis and Rick was stuck in a hospital bed a few floors down.

Fay's daily calls were a lifeline for Michael. They lifted his spirits and calmed his nerves. She made him feel like everything was going to be okay again and he needed that. Because with Billy and Casey still more dead than alive in the ICU, his world seemed to breaking apart and Fay's voice was the string holding it together.

But Michael knew that, should Billy wake up, Casey would soon follow. The two were the strangest team Michael had ever seen in action. They were at odds most of the time, different not just in appearance but also in mindset, but when it came to working together they were incredibly in sync. An almost unbeatable team. So Michael knew that should one of them wake up – and Michael couldn't bear to think otherwise – the other would be okay too.

So he had to trust in his team that they would fight and find their way back. And until then all Michael could do was wait.

They only let him stay with Billy or Casey for short periods and when he wasn't sitting in the chair between the two beds in ICU, Michael was sitting beside Rick. At least the younger operative was showing signs of improvement. He was nearly completely off the pain meds and the doctors had allowed him to move around on crutches; there was even talk about Rick getting released soon.

Still it was an exhausting regime and all Michael wanted to do was to lie down and sleep, but he couldn't, wouldn't allow himself the rest until he knew that his men would be alright. It was a show of solidarity, of showing his men that he would never abandon them.

The days still dragged on and Michael only slept or ate when Rick forced him to. And in that Michael was proud. Rick was taking on more responsibility, was actually going face to face with him when necessary. They did good in teaching Rick the ropes of the spy game and shaping him into the man he was now. Although Michael knew that without Billy to offer support and Casey to show him self-defense none of this would have been possible. Which was why they couldn't lose them now.

And slowly but steadily Billy was improving. His fever was dropping after it had spiked yesterday and he was showing the first signs of coming around. There was no way Michael could stop now.

Four days after the explosion, while Michael was sitting in his customary chair in the ICU, Billy finally opened his eyes. They were clouded with pain and drugs, but they focused on Michael for the few seconds they were open.

Michael sat up and leaned over the bed, making sure that he was in Billy's line of sight. He knew that his eyes reflected the incredible relief he felt, because two thirds of his team was awake and that was more than Michael imagined was possible just a few short days ago.

He placed his hand back on Billy's shoulder, nearly the exact same place where it had rested in the warehouse and squeezed softly. No words were exchanged, but it didn't really matter for now. Eye contact was more important than words, especially since Billy couldn't speak with the tube still in place.

Billy's eyes slipped shut again, and his heartbeat evened out as he slipped back under, but Michael knew that it was just a matter of time before everything would slip back to normal. Or at least as normal as life with the ODS would ever be.

As Michael expected, things improved from that point onwards. Billy was predictable in this. He tended to get injured often, sometimes not so bad and sometimes bad, but once he woke up he would always bounce back fast. So it was no surprise to Michael that an hour after Billy woke up for the first time, the doctors removed the ventilator.

Billy woke up for a second time just a few hours after that. As soon as Michael saw Billy's lids twitch again, he leaned forward, placed his elbows on his knees and watched as Billy blinked lazily and then finally turned unfocussed eyes to his team leader.

"We still alive?" Billy asked. His voice sounded rough from the ventilator and disuse, but Michael had never been so glad to hear it. Because Billy was aware and that meant that two thirds of his team would be fine, would survive and Casey would stand no chance against their combined force to bring him back.

"Yeah, we are," Michael replied and stretched his hand out to retrieve the ice chips a nurse had left there. He gave some to Billy, who gulped them down greedily, before speaking again.

"Doesn't feel like it."

Michael snorted softly – that must have been a serious understatement. "Don't worry about it for now, Billy. It'll be better next time you wake up."

Because even though Billy had been talking, the Scot's eyes had closed again. Michael knew from experience that it would be a while until Billy would stay awake for longer periods of time and for now he was glad for it, because it also meant that Billy hadn't realized that Malick was in the other bed. Knowing Billy, the other man would worry more about his teammates than about his own condition. For now Billy would be sleeping peacefully and not worry about anything else, because that was still, and would always be, Michael's job.

Over the next day, Billy woke up more often and for longer. And as soon as he was more aware he started asking about the rest of his teammates. Michael's sling was highly visible and a second after Billy had seen this, his eyes had found Casey. His voice was still rough and weak, despite the ice and the water, but if anything, Billy was more determined to use it after he found out about Casey's condition.

Despite his best efforts, Billy still tended to fall asleep mid-sentence, but whenever he woke up again, he just started at the exact same point in the one-sided conversation. It was impressive, really. But it was that tenacity that reassured Michael. If there was one person that could wake Casey up, it would be Billy.

* * *

><p>The first words Casey muttered when he woke up were "Shut up, Collins." And Michael had to fight hard not to laugh. There were tear in his eyes though – tears he would deny, because they clearly came from mirth and not relief. Fortunately, no one seemed likely to call him on it, not when they all felt the same.<p>

Hearing Billy and Casey bicker was the last piece that slid back into place and suddenly Michael felt centered again. He didn't feel as if he was back in control, there were still a few things Michael had no say over, but his team was back on the mend and for now that was all he needed. He felt relaxed and let the voices of his friends wash over him, no matter how uncomfortable the chair was and no matter how tired he actually was.

"You do know that just because we slept the last few days away, doesn't mean that you had to stay awake," Casey's voice broke through his thoughts and Michael sat up straighter again, had to blink a couple of times to get back into the here and now.

"What makes you think that I haven't been sleeping?" Michael asked, he knew that the confrontation would eventually come. It always did, he just had hoped that he would have had more time to actually prepare for it.

"We may be injured, Michael, but we're not blind," this time it was Billy and Michael's gaze whipped from Casey's still pasty face, to Billy's slightly flushed one.

"Besides, Rick is a very good source for information," Casey stated.

Michael glared. He knew what was happening; his operatives were tag teaming in an effort to bully him into rest. It wasn't the first time that this happened and Michael was pretty sure that it wouldn't be the last time either.

"And considering that we all are better," Billy continued, "you should go and get some rest. We can deal for a few hours without you."

This time Michael sighed. He was beyond tired and his team was safe. But there were still few short seconds, where it felt like this was all a dream. That his team wasn't safe and he was still in that bombed out warehouse, trapped and slowly dying. It was an image he couldn't quiet shake and also one of the countless reasons why he hadn't even tried to sleep just yet.

"We can always sic Fay on you. Because she totally would fly down here if we asked her to," Billy said, voice light and finally rid of that scratchy sound.

Michael knew that he shouldn't be giving up so easily – couldn't let his operatives think they could wield any power about his bed times – so he grumbled under his breath as he pushed out of the chair.

"And don't even think about stopping by Martinez," Casey added, staring him down with no malice in his eyes.

It was a good feeling, knowing that his team knew him so well. Even if it let to situations like these, where he was bullied into rest.

He left with a quick wave and the knowledge that his friends were safe for the moment.

* * *

><p>The calls from Fay slowly faded from twice a day to maybe once every other day. But now that they were all safe and recovering, she had other things to do, like planning missions for other operatives and relaxing. And Michael had his team back. He didn't need the outside encouragement anymore.<p>

Fay had promised him a military flight back home the first time they had spoken over the phone, back when he had no idea if Casey or Billy would even be using the seats. But now, the plane was waiting at the next airport for them and all Michael had to do was pick up Billy and Casey from the hospital.

Rick had shared the hotel room with him the past week, the first to be released from hospital. It had helped to know that at least one teammate was close by. And Rick was really shaping up, staying up with him during the nightmares and just simply talking to him about anything else, anything inconsequential and not related to work.

Michael was grateful for that distraction, grateful that he wasn't alone anymore with just Fay's voice over the phone, no matter how southing or reassuring it was. Maybe one day he would even be able to tell Rick that, unless the younger operative figured it out by himself at some point, just like Billy or Casey did years ago. It certainly spared him from actually saying it out loud.

* * *

><p>The flight was long, painful and boring. It was a military plane, specially constructed to transport injured soldiers back home, so there were stretchers in the back. Two of which were currently occupied by Billy and Casey, both sedated for the long flight and monitored closely by an Army medic that flew with them.<p>

Rick was lying on a third cot, his casted leg secured tightly to protect it against any turbulence but not too heavily sedated that he would sleep all the way through. Michael was sitting on a fourth cot, facing Rick as he leaned with his back against the wall. It wasn't the most comfortable flight he had ever taken, but it didn't much matter, because they were together and they were alive.

"It's kind of too silent without them bickering at each other, isn't it?" Rick asked, sometime over the middle over the ocean.

Michael's gaze immediately followed Rick's and landed on Billy before looking back to Rick. This time he couldn't suppress a smile. "Enjoy it, it won't last."

"I know, but for a while back there in the warehouse I thought I would never hear it again." Rick's gaze was now leveled at Michael, fear openly visible in them.

"Me too," Michael replied honestly. "But you know those two, far too stubborn to give up. A little bomb wouldn't bring them down."

"What would?"

"As long as we work together, I sure hope nothing. Listen, Martinez you did good out there."

Rick looked uncomfortable at the compliment and shrugged his shoulders before he replied, "I didn't do anything."

"You stayed calm, you didn't do anything rash. Sometimes that is the best you can do," Michael replied.

And this time Rick nodded, taking the advice and the compliment and looked back toward Billy and Casey. "As long as we all come back it's a successful mission, right?"

"Right. Get some more sleep, Rick. You'll be needing it, landing will be tough," Michael said and slouched farther down, preparing to get some sleep himself. It wasn't comfortable, but he was safe, his team was safe and in a few hours they back home and sometimes that was all that counted.

* * *

><p>Fay and Adele were waiting for them at the air strip. He knew Adele would probably justify it as part of her responsibilities as Deputy Director, but Michael suspected she was as anxious to see Rick as anything. As for Fay, Michael knew she liked to see her missions through to the end. Even if they weren't married anymore, she was always the one he was coming home to and he knew she'd always be the one waiting. It would be good to see her in person, it would be good to hear her voice again. And she would be a great ally in helping him convince Billy and Casey to stay at his place for the time being.<p>

The four of them were always in close quarters, mission or no mission. They were always in contact somehow, were it by phone or a quick email. Living as a spy was dangerous, it didn't matter if they were on foreign soil or home land. And these quick check ins were Michael's reassurance that his team was still alive. Besides that, they had become friends and friends went out for drinks now and again.

After mission like the last one, where everything had gone downhill and then some, Michael needed the close contact even more. He needed the reassurance that they all really were safe and alive. Leaving Billy alone in his hotel room and Casey in his apartment was not on option. Michael knew that Rick would be safe with Adele, so the other two would have to be safe with him.

He was right about Fay being an ally, because she refused to drive either Billy or Casey to their respective homes. And while both men were fearless in the field, would stand up to anyone who stood in their way, they were not going to try to cross his ex-wife. No one did.

* * *

><p>The first days back on the job were lonely.<p>

The office was too silent without Billy's antics and Casey's grumbling and Rick's amused snorts. It felt like all the life had been sucked out of it. His only consolation was that he had the life back at his house instead.

So he spent a lot of his time at work with Fay. She had been his lifeline; it only seemed fair that he now brought her coffee from time to time. Besides, she was always up for a talk and a friendly word and it made the days seemingly shorter.

Things better once Rick was back. The office felt less empty, but it was still too silent. And whenever Rick limped over to Adele, Michael spend his time with Fay. It only seemed right.

Once Billy and Casey were back at their respective desks, things easily slipped back into place. Months had passed since the explosion and Michael still had nightmares about it, could see his teammates dying in his dreams. But those dreams had become routine too and when he woke up, feeling helpless and scared, he just needed to remind himself that his friends were just a phone call away. Needless to say, Billy and Casey had gotten used to midnight calls.

It was a Monday morning, two months after they all were back in the office, when Michael realized that they need to get back into the field. Casey had already destroyed two stress balls, the stack of files on Billy's desk looked like it might be ready to eat him and Rick was staring to learn yet another language.

His team was bored. Which meant that they were ready to go back to the field. So he made his way to the kitchen and prepared a coffee just the way Fay liked it best. Because that was one sure way to get the next best mission and into the field, where they all belonged.

The end.


End file.
